


Gatekeeper (Sing To Me)

by BabaTunji



Series: MCU Ficlets [11]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Cousin Incest, Fix-It, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24255952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabaTunji/pseuds/BabaTunji
Summary: Different iterations of how Korea and Klaue might have went and of course the iconic throne room scene.
Relationships: Erik Killmonger/T'Challa
Series: MCU Ficlets [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1424836
Comments: 36
Kudos: 37





	1. a proposal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dunkel_bier](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=dunkel_bier).



> Title is taken from the MISSIO song, "Sing To Me" (A T'Challa anthem for sure)  
> and "Gatekeeper/Mercy" by Haley Kiyoko (An Erik anthem yes, sir)  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4FlhGvBQMGS6QWgQiEhcjf?si=m1XV0JPeSGypL0qu6q67kQ  
> Fic Playlist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing brings me joy. The world of fanfiction is my escape. I enjoy and encourage all sorts of porny, improbable fun, dark nonsense. It's great. I made a comment (mostly joking and intentionally derisive) of another person’s work in the tag. I don’t regret making the comment and I stand by what I said, but I see now why others reacted the way they did. I honestly believe everyone should be allowed to write what they like and find enjoyment.  
> But since this is a public space… people can react negatively, positively or derisively to that content. If anyone involved or commenting truly cares (at all lol) to know why I made the comment I did, and why black fans like me react the way we do to this fandom’s treatment of black characters… I invite you to reach out. Engage with me and other involved individuals: there’s a whole discord (two actually floating in the tumblr/twitter tags). There are sensitivity readers and betas and a simple… vibe check to the void.  
> That’s all I have to say on it.  
> This fic is a gift to an artist on twitter, dunkel_bier. This picture in particular:  
> https://twitter.com/dunkel_bier/status/1253999497488658433?s=20  
> feeds me.

N’Jadaka doesn’t look like his father. 

T’Challa admires the zeal in troublesome eyes and makes his decision. 

“N’Jadaka, son of N’Jobu. Wakanda welcomes you.” 

His declaration is met with murmurs, louder now. Questions and declarations T’Challa ignores for the moment. 

“With chains?” N’Jadaka shakes his restraints for effect and T’Challa nods to W’Kabi. 

“A security precaution cousin, we don’t get visitors often.” As he speaks W’Kabi moves to unlock the restraints. The Dora closest to his cousin tense in anticipation and T’Challa’s smile widens. 

“I’m not a visitor, *I want the throne*. Get me out of these chains and we can start the challenge.” N’Jadaka shakes the restraints again, grinning devilishly. 

Oh... T'Challa cocks his head just a bit, almost playful. The reaction from the council (and his family) is much less amused. They of course didn't take lightly this intrusion, or such casually thrown words bordering insult. 

"Challenge day has passed, cousin. It would be very unusual to have one now."

“Oh, come on. I did my research. What? Scared to get your tail wet? Don’t want the outsider to embarrass you?”

"N'Jadaka," He likes the way the man's name feels in his mouth. " I'm sorry you missed this year's challenge. There will be another in.." He trails off to calculate the time. "10 months. Whatever your grievances I'm sure we can discuss—" He expects the interruption and is not disappointed. Truthfully this is more entertaining than explaining to the council he failed to retrieve Klaue and the reason for such failure is standing in front of them.

“So you *are* scared.” W’Kabi has yet to release the restraints, the Border Tribesman looks more wary now with N’Jadaka throwing words the way he is. They all know who is in charge here, even if T’Challa is prone to generosity.

“I’ve done more for this country than you or your wack ass daddy ever did. I brought Klaue! While you were running around Korea causing a mess *I* was doing the real work. What kind of leadership is that?” 

T'Challa spares a glance in his mother’s direction. Her lips are pursed, expression grim but underneath the deep scowl he can see some recognition, a memory maybe? Or realization of some sort. His father kept all sorts of secrets. His sister, like he already knew N'Jadaka stole Klaue, joins the fray. 

"We had him before you stole him from us! You wouldn't have got him at all if we hadn't apprehended him first." 

She probably thinks she's making a point but T'Challa can only see childish circular logic. If they were better, N'Jadaka would have never been able to steal Klaue in the first place. 

T'Challa doesn't speak, listening to the murmurs and questions. One elder is still stuck on gaining proper 'proof' that N'Jadaka is who he says he is. The others are more focused on the N’Jadaka’s assertion on Klaue and the ring of course, particularly the Border Elder.

T’Challa isn't scared, no rather his heartbeat reflects the realization he is only coming to. N'Jadaka coordinated this to have enough support to challenge him, support the Border Tribe might just give. Would it be so bad to give N'Jadaka his wish? He doubts the man could actually beat him in combat, but why give him the opportunity at all? He wants to see who will support the challenge, and then offer an alternative.

“That’s not true, cuz. I’ve been tracking him for *years*, we even worked together and If you were better I wouldn’t have been able to ‘steal’ him from you. T’Challa and T’Chaka were playing games, *I* was hunting Klaue! While T’Challa was sitting there making excuses, I was on the ground tracking Klaue’s every move! He was having tea with CIA suits and I busted Klaue out, took him somewhere private and killed him! I didn’t waste time. Is this your *king?!* Is this your leadership?! This is who you entrust with the safety of your country?! I get shit done. I don’t sit and twiddle my thumbs and make up excuses!” 

The speech is having an effect on its target audience and T’Challa’s eyes track not just W’Kabi’s expression but some of those on the council gathered. Bast bless this troublemakers gall. He slots the new information mixed with the insults away.

The Dora closest to N'Jadaka advance, apparently done with listening. Their spears at least are lowered to neutralize instead of kill. T'Challa raises a hand to still the devolving situation. "If I may speak?" It's posed like a question but it's not. The room naturally goes quiet shortly after. Besides him, his sister is practically *overflowing* with rage. T'Challa sympathizes but is ultimately unbothered. N'Jadaka is telling the truth. His father hadn't tried too hard in recent years to find Klaue, and T'Challa had played with his food. 

"I'm blessed to have such a dedicated cousin. Wakanda thanks you for your service but that does not entitle you to challenge in such an irregular manner." He doesn't let anyone interrupt him this time and he says, with very little relish (this isn't something to be proud of... no his father hid this for years) "N'Jobu gave Klaue the information to infiltrate our defenses in the first place, It's why my father killed him. It redeems you in my eyes, but I can not speak for the rest of Wakanda."

“It should entitle me, you’re incompetent! I don’t need your redemption, cuz. I need the throne. You’re a pussy, T’Challa. Literally. I don’t need your agreement to take what I want.”

Again with the insults… T'Challa stares at angry eyes and thinks... 'you might have been a threat, if you were raised where you should have been.' But N'Jadaka isn't and his case falls apart the way it always would. His insults to T'Challa are just one more mark against him. A foreign American agent on Wakandan lands. Dubious gift or no. But before he dismisses N'Jadaka to cool his heels somewhere nice and monitored, he steps forward from the dais of the throne and walks right up to N'Jadaka. 

His cousin's stance reminds him of a peacock, even if the tremor in his hands warns T'Challa he's very much like their tribe's moniker. He can practically see the moment rage turns into odd consternation—It's T'Challa's expression perhaps. It's been years since T'Challa felt *real* fear. Not even when he watched his father die, in fact there was a sense of relief he will probably never tell anyone.

He makes sure to give N'Jadaka the once over, properly this time. N’Jadaka is handsome. The genetic diversity from his mother would be welcome as well. "When you've refreshed yourself some, I have a different proposition." N'Jadaka made a several kilometer trek to Wakanda's border, presumably with Klaue's body in tow.

“I don’t need to refresh. Tell me now.” 

Let the record show he tried. He's sure N'Jadaka would be more receptive after an aromatic bath, some food, maybe a leisurely walk through the palace grounds. "I will not accept a challenge outside the traditional yearly challenge--" He ignores the immediate response to say, a small smile forming: “ — If it's power you are seeking, I'm open to marriage discussion. Wakanda does not yet have a King Consort."

There is a quick flash of expressions on N’Jadaka’s face as well as amongst the others in the room but T’Challa’s attention is focused on N’Jadaka alone. It’s more difficult to read the man now, lending credence that the act he had just put for them was a show. A calculated sort, American accent and all.

“And if I choose not to marry you?” 

Not a 'no.’ Interesting. "We don't force marriages in Wakanda. I wouldn't expect you to make a choice so quickly either." 

No, just leave T’Challa some hours to talk things through, exhaustively with the council. He can feel a headache forming just over what the conversation confirming the information his cousin's arrival had prompted or revealed would entail. 

"T'Challa... You can not be seriously considering this charlatan as..." 

His mother speaks for the first time through the din of voices and T'Challa's back straightens, and his excitement dims just a bit. He doesn't turn around, addressing his mother now. 

"I am. It takes minutes to confirm his parentage besides, why would he or Zuri lie?" Even if N'Jadaka wasn't N'Jobu's blood relation his uncle had given N'Jadaka the War Dog tattoo and his ring. By their own laws, that is more than enough 'proof' of intent.

N’Jadaka turns to look past him and to where his mother is standing by the throne.

“What? I don’t look like my daddy?”

Before N’Jadaka can hurl any words or barely concealed threats towards his mother, and truly ruin whatever calm and brevity T’Challa is trying to garner. T’Challa says, “We have lots of catching up to do cousin.” Then he steps more directly into the man’s space and begins to unlock the restraints himself. There’s a moment in between when the action registers to the others in the room and when N’Jadaka himself does. The man is much more guarded than his peacocking earlier would suggest and T’Challa enjoys the discomfort he causes in the younger man. Then the restraints unlock and T’Challa is  _ still _ in N’Jadaka’s space. Kissing distance actually. N’Jadaka to his credit doesn’t pull away, gaze just as intense as when he stepped in the room. Uncowed, unamused and looking nothing like the image T’Challa remembers of N’Jobu. T’Challa smiles wider, one hand coming up to rest on the man’s cheek, allowing his pleasure at the truly bizarre but promising series of events that had just unfolded before him. 

“Welcome home, N’Jadaka.” 

Then he’s pulling away, inhumanely fast as the man’s control finally breaks and a fist shoots up to where he once was to hit only air. It isn’t really a fight, he had intentionally baited N’Jadaka, not unlike the way his cousin tried to bait him. The Dora don’t take the action as lightly and they converge on N’Jadaka. T’Challa watches the scuffle with open interest. 

N’Jadaka is quite the fighter, and the Dora don’t immediately manage to restrain him. A feat considering their point guard is the General herself. When they do it is accompanied with much spitting and kicking, W’Kabi being next to N’Jadaka gets some stray hits but they manage. Once N’Jadaka realizes he can not outfight the General _and_ three of the most elite Dora Milaje he goes back to spitting insults and obscenity not that he ever stopped but now they’re directed at T’Challa again. T’Challa tunes most of it out and makes a personal note to learn what fighting styles N’Jadaka favored. He didn’t recognize a particular kick combo his cousin used to almost escape the Dora Milaje’s hold. 

From the chatter T’Challa hears, the elders aren’t impressed. He thinks he might even hear Shuri laugh, though she covers it with a cough.

“Please escort N’Jadaka to the family wing, I think he needs to rest. Today has been very exciting for everyone.” The Dora Milaje don’t argue with his direction but Okoye’s expression promises trouble the minute they were in private. She hated when he played like this, and it was a game to him, even when he is being perfectly serious. To the council and rising whispers he says, “There has been a series of new information following Klaue’s capture. I will do my best to brief you all on the situation but I ask that you pardon our newest tribesman. I should not have baited him.” 

Mining Tribe elder looks like she’s about to say something particularly derisive when T’Challa’s gaze flickers from her to the standing retinue of tribesmen at her side. Her favorite ran into some trouble earlier this year, T’Challa doesn’t want to have to remind her again to watch her words. He is not his father. Her lips press into a thin line and T’Challa makes his way back to the throne dais. He nudges Shuri before he sits, quietly he murmurs: “N’Jadaka was baiting me, it’s good to return the favor isn’t it?” 

Followed by a louder directive: “Please pull up the mission footage, Shuri.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what first came to me for this scene. It’s the beginning of an idea for grey T’Challa that I may or may not get around to actually doing. I hint but it may not be clear this isn’t quite the T’Challa we see in canon, he’s a couple degrees more fucked up and absolutely Erik’s match (he always is, this T’Challa just has more fun~)  
> I wanted to stay true the spirit of the characters and also write porn so I will be doing a few iterations of how Erik/T’Challa might get to the beautiful picture dunkiel_bier made ^^  
> Hopefully the next iteration actually fuck… (that is without 100k+ words of slow burn enemies to lovers buildup)  
> If you enjoyed, or have a response to my first A/N note feel free to review here or chat on less public channels.


	2. not a love song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m on a gray T’Challa kick. Don’t @ me.

There’s a mission plan. It’s a perfectly good mission plan. Erik would know, he made it, directed every unit in the plan, made all these extra concessions and worst of all played dumb American for months to the most obnoxious white man he’s ever hard the misfortune to be around for extended periods of time. This is after previous long months of deep cover. All for his stupid cousin to come barging through guns blazing, vibranium suit painting a fucking red arrow for any foreign intelligence agency with two eyes and a working internet connection to see. 

Erik hadn’t told T’Challa his plans for a reason. This mission is off the books, off the record. This shit is personal, his dad died over this shit, he can’t believe —ok fine he can believe. There’s even one or two sketchy points where Wakanda’s lazy but crazy effective War Dog division could put two and two together to get the approximate location of  _ his _ shitty wannabe white rapper come terrorist/arms dealer. He’s glad he didn’t show up for the dumb challenge day. He’s glad—

“Are you still sulking? N’Jadaka please.” T’Challa doesn’t sound sorry at all. 

Erik doesn’t say anything, fuming quietly in the back of the Talonjet. At the helm, Okoye is directing their flight path back to Wakanda’s capital and pretending not to eavesdrop. Thankfully she accompanied T’Challa on his little ‘trip’ otherwise Erik might have actually lost it during the aftermath of his failed mission. 

“You did most of the legwork, I just assisted. You know I had to, once W’Kabi found out it was either me or him and the entire host of Border Patrol.” Erik thinks about what that would look like, almost smirks at the guaranteed bloodbath before going back to being angry. W’Kabi or T’Challa neither knew subtlety even if it hit them upside the head. 

Erik  _ saw _ the footage of him toying with the Winter Soldier, T’Challa wanted his pound of flesh from Klaue before he handed him over. Erik kept his work secret for a reason, and now he might as well have just sent Klaue’s co-ordinates to W’Kabi and called it a day. 

“I’m sorry.” T’Challa sounds slightly more contrite now, but Erik isn’t moved. 

They sit in silence for awhile and then T’Challa says, a little too casual:

“Linda is nice. Where did you meet her?” 

One, Linda is  _ not _ nice. The British-Nigerian was the sort of one-woman support team Erik dreamed about but hated in person. Professionally trained—Erik suspected German intelligence but wouldn’t put it past MI6 to cultivate someone like her—now freelance. Precise and deadly to a fault. He still needed to pay her bonus for this stupid mission. 

Two, T’Challa’s tone is too casual discussing someone he had seen Erik kiss. They’ve done this song and dance before and he can’t be anything but suspicious of T’Challa where anyone he may or may not be sleeping with is concerned. 

Three, when had T’Challa even gotten the chance to  _ speak _ with her? Someone is lying here. 

“Stop right now.” He breaks his silence and pushes down the impulse to smack the triumphant smirk off T’Challa’s stupid face. Ugh, what did he do to deserve someone like this? Fuck T’Challa for being nosy, fuck Linda for not telling T’Challa to shove it and oh my fucking God that’s how T’Challa tracked Klaue so fast. He had been snooping around Linda. What sort of psychotic… must run in the family.

“You know I’m not dating her, stop playing dumb.” He can’t possibly get angrier right now. Do everything right, cover his tracks, go deep cover for almost  _ two  _ years tracking one man and T’Challa figures it all out cause he’s a possessive asshole who doesn’t immediately trip off Linda’s overdeveloped sense of caution. 

“I wouldn’t assume. You’ve been gone for ages, it’s not unusual.” T’Challa delivers the lies coming out of his mouth with an earnest expression, he also scoots closer on the long cushioned bench they’re both sitting on. Erik senses a trap, the type that led to him being buried balls deep in the infuriating piece of shit that happened to be his cousin in locations where the Dora (or Okoye in this case) can make derisive comments about later and scoots away. He knows it's futile but needs the pretense for his sanity. 

“I’m not Nakia.” He’s fighting dirty and he doesn’t care. T’Challa deserves it. 

A hurt look flashes briefly on T’Challa’s face before the concerned, earnest expression returns. He knows better than to touch Erik right now, but Erik can tell he wants to and is weighing the consequences against his personal satisfaction. He must make his decision because he advances again, this time without the fake expression. 

Erik moves back and catches Okoye’s irritated huff at the helm before his knee makes satisfying contact with the padded flesh of T’Challa’s side. The contact is as brief as the hurt look earlier, as brief as Erik’s hopes to get this  _ one _ thing. Do this last act of restorative justice for his dad. Then T’Challa is on him and they’re both falling to the floor in a flailing, painful heap. Minutes into their wrestling, a tongue drags on his cheek, acting like the cat Erik sometimes suspected T’Challa secretly is. T’Challa isn’t breathing hard at all meanwhile Erik feels like he’s under a literal fucking panther, pinned as he is. Erik knows if he looked up, a smile, the weird pleased one that used to creep him out when he was younger, would be there. He lets the anger go.

“Missed you too, asshole.”

T’Challa doesn’t dignify his peace offering with a response and Erik isn’t expecting one. Most days T’Challa played his role pretty well, smiled when he was supposed to, (the fake non-creepy one), did the whole Wakandan prince shtick. Most days. But today and probably the last couple weeks have not been normal at all. T’Challa’s father is dead, Wakanda has a new white fugitive in their care… and T’Challa is finally king. Definitely a ‘mask off’ moment. 

The mask has been slipping for awhile anyway. 

“Let me up.” He waits impatiently to see if T’Challa would listen.

T’Challa does so reluctantly and Erik’s body complains the whole way up. This time when he looks T’Challa in the face it’s the real one staring back. Not the scary diplomatic one or the oh so perfect Wakandan one. The one that held Everett Ross in place hours ago so Erik could line his shot. 

_ His _ T’Challa. 

He’s still not happy with how everything went down, has more questions than he can answer on what unfolded but he’s let the anger go. They have Klaue, barely alive and in special packaging for W’Kabi and Border Tribes’ further enjoyment. Erik found him first, doing what Wakandan intelligence hadn’t managed to do for too long. 

T’Challa leans in close and this time Erik doesn’t pull away. 

Down below across the open plains there are small squads of Border Patrol riding, some wave at the Talonjet as they pass over. If Erik wished he could see the visage of Wakanda’s true image under the fake projection with a turn of his head. He doesn’t, content to stay where he is, sharing air with the one man he trusts, come hell or stolen kill.

T’Challa murmurs, “Welcome home, N’Jadaka.” and Erik feels just a little lighter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm allergic to porn right now, idk man. It’s just a vibe.


	3. all hail (a reprise)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title is pretentious. @dunkiel_bier the porn I promised. Half baked and a bit bloody.

There’s a story in here. About tools and men, like the ones his dad would tell him when he was young enough to believe fairy tales and that someone would come rescue him. Growing up Erik’s always wanted to be the man, but in the end his function is a tool. He may not have realized it but his daddy probably did after he made Erik’s mixed heritage, outsider ass. Some other world or universe, T’Chaka doesn’t clean up his mess and Erik grows up real angry. Even manages to pop off and cause trouble for a bit. This world, his uncle meets him in person and tells him the score right before he punishes N’Jobu for making a mess in the first place. This world Erik gets the dubious ‘pleasure’ of reaching his full potential, and gets to be the best tool a Wakandan ever accidentally (on purpose) created.

“N’Jadaka, you’re back early!” T’Challa says Erik’s real name differently. From his aunt, from his baby cousin Shuri, and basically anyone who has the privilege of not getting popped in the mouth for using it. His cousin is facing him, the distance of a body bag between them.

Erik doesn’t acknowledge the greeting beyond a nod. It’s just filler, T’Challa knew the minute he touched down, has probably been tracking Erik’s mission from his command room since early last night. The thing is, Erik is tired. From 48 hours of bullshit and ready for a shower, some sleep. He deserves it. 

T’Challa doesn’t dismiss him, and Erik wonders if he’ll have to relay his mission report to T’Challa now instead of later. He doesn’t want to.

“...N’Jadaka?” T’Challa’s tone is a query. A request for him to play along and drop the Killmonger mask. Erik doesn’t want to, he’s not ready just yet. He reported to his cousin, (his handler, his keeper) out of respect. Not because he has any patience for anything more than the facsimile of protocol or their usual games right now. T’Challa looks way too comfortable standing where he is, not even peering down at the body bag. Why would he? He had watched Erik kill the corpse inside. The body bag is just a pretty bow, Erik playing the part of a house cat presenting a dead offering to its owner for inspection. 

T’Challa steps over the body bag and closer to where Erik is. 

“Was it good, baby boy?” The endearment is a dig, a demand for Erik to respond… or else. ‘Baby boy’ is a childhood nickname, his mom was the only one who ever used it. 

Erik shifts, uneasy at all this direct attention. Something happened while he was away, he can feel it in the restless energy that hangs over this entire interaction. Why couldn’t this wait till he isn’t sleep deprived and exhausted? He won’t ask, he doesn’t care enough. He’s heard the request (a command) however, loud and fucking clear.

“Yeah. It was, you saw me.” Erik keeps the resignation out of his tone from stating the obvious, trying to get in the right headspace for what he thinks T’Challa needs right now. His eyes track from T’Challa’s calm, assessing expression then lower. Settles on his mouth, the shape of his lips. Erik wants to make him be quiet, choke him during something they could both enjoy.

T’Challa creeps the final distance till he’s right up in Erik’s space, kissing distance for people who aren’t them. If this is what he wanted why couldn’t he wait till Erik isn’t wearing fucking body armor and filthy from a successful mission? Some shower sex would be much preferable to...oh. Eugh, (comprehension, understanding, mild disgust) fine. He would play, he could try anyway.    
Erik moves and tries not to telegraph it so T’Challa can pretend not to see it coming. This would be easier if he still had the rope from earlier. Something to make the ensuing wrestling hurt less, something to help keep him from bowing to the panther asking to be taken down, metaphorically bearing on him with too sharp teeth in the unassuming shape of T’Challa. He fights dirty, punching his fists into sensitive nerves and going immediately for T’Challa’s erogenous zones. This isn’t a real fight he just needs to—he makes the mistake of loosening the grip he has on T’Challa’s left forearm and gets a kick in the ribcage for his trouble. Everything hurts more with the herb to punish him for being too slow, being weak. Except T’Challa must be more tired (at the edge?) than his earlier behavior implied because he  _ lets _ Erik pin him again, face up their bodies lined in a way that promised trouble if Erik didn’t get a move on stat. 

Erik doesn’t stall to catch his breath and bites down on the juncture of T’Challa’s neck the moment he has a decent hold. 30 seconds and the body underneath him relaxes, Erik doesn’t. Too tired for the usual dirty talk, and a little wary of the way T’Challa might retaliate if he stalled. 

It takes precious seconds to get the blade in the bottom right compartment of his armor out, then he’s slicing through fabric to get at the skin underneath. The cloth comes apart like tissue there’s no layer underneath either. Erik focuses on what's most important over his immediate reaction to that little detail. T’Challa makes a small pleased noise when the blade makes the accidental ‘kiss’ over exposed flesh. It has the opposite effect on him, even if he knows logically it wouldn’t matter. Then he’s moving lower and thinking about the best way to restrain T’Challa, keep the blade away from anywhere important  _ and _ somehow free his own dick in the same instance. 

He uses his mouth to hold the blade, one hand holding T’Challa’s wrist, the other working determined on his lower body armor. Silently he curses T’Challa’s need for elaborate fucking scenerios—the belt comes loose and he pushes T’Challa upwards where they’ve both tumbled so he can wriggle out better. They grind unintentionally and then with more coordination once he’s free. Then the blade in his mouth nicks the tip of his tongue and he has to just hold it while the blood (an annoying amount) seeps out the corner of his mouth and the hand T’Challa now has free moves between them to grope him. 

Now that he’s close enough he can smell the faint scent of silicone-based lube. Probably a plug or something, T’Challa is definitely ready for whatever Erik can manage before exhaustion makes him pass out. He takes too long for his next move because the groping turns painful and he has to yank T’Challa’s hand away, fuck. 

What he wants to say is something like “I will eat you out till you scream. Stay fucking still.” That would have the opposite effect. He’s not threatening T’Challa with a good time. Instead he goes completely still, blood dripping down his cheek arms wrapped as tight as he can manage around T’Challa and waits. Barely a minute into it T’Challa is trying to buck him off and Erik just tries to hold on, he’s making a point. 

“N’Jadaka!” T’Challa breaks character and Erik’s resolve hardens. T’Challa started this, he could either commit to it or put an end to it. More squirming, more noise for Erik to tune out. Right before he spits the blade out and allows his blood to pool in the space between them. Then he’s reaching, (finally) for where he knows something else is waiting. Taking his spot… holding T’Challa open for him. He pushes the plug in deeper and gets a pained moan for his trouble. The sound inspires him to stall a bit more and he tugs at the toy’s flared rim enjoying the way it barely gives and the grumbling below at Erik’s dawdling. Next time Erik asked for special privileges he wouldn’t use a toy, just so T’Challa could  _ feel _ the difference when he fucked Erik. 

Right now he punishes T’Challa a little longer for not being able to wait. Being so hardup that he couldn’t even let Erik take a fucking shower—”Erik. Now.” 

T’Challa doesn’t know how to beg, it’s a character flaw. Or at least he doesn’t know how to beg Erik. He lets the command slide and jerks the toy out, tossing it carelessly to the side. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a round of tumblr/discord prompts to get to... a big bang, next chapter of bloody waters. The list goes on but this is ultimately a labor of love. I can only hope to inspire people who care for more than simple smut for these two.


	4. If you give this jackal a chance he'll...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'Challa has been waiting for Erik for years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> February has been a month! Buried deep into RPF lately and only recently coming up for air with T'Cherik. Motivated strongly by the lovely MiniOranges and the renewable resource that is spite. Here: have some more moral grey T'Challa. I know every single one of these seems like the start of a fic and should be longer. *runs and hides*

They get the notification that Klaue’s gotten picked up (again) by the feds from local news. Erik tallies up the death count on the detail assigned to the man the night of and rolls his eyes. Wakanda’s finest racking up a body count on top of that scene going around Korean airwaves… not very subtle. But then his cousin has been spiraling ever since his daddy died at the U.N. 

So far the footage Erik’s seen hasn’t impressed him and he’s watched the badly taken—grainy cuts for hours gleaning as much as he could from them. To him it looked a lot like the guy was playing with his food in the case of Barnes. But what really seals Erik’s assessment is when he hesitates to kill Klaue, it’s how he knows he’ll be able to kill his cousin no problem and he immediately starts devising a strategy to use once he’s gotten Klaue back in custody. 

His initial plan was to lure Wakanda out and that succeeded but thanks to Klaue’s own stupidity he almost lost his key in. He gets that key back courtesy of some well timed explosions, Linda’s magic and his cousin’s hesitation (why were they fucking hesitating?) 

The minute he peels out of there with Klaue he expects a tail,  _ something _ on Wakanda’s end but none comes and soon they’re flying out as if nothing happened. By the time they make it to the usual junkyard Erik is getting antsy. Something doesn’t feel right. Linda reads him well and they both ready to turn Klaue into a corpse when the fucker grabs Linda. Erik doesn’t even hesitate and the sound of two bullets on their way to Klaue’s skull is all the warning he gets. 

When the body slumps down Linda simply blinks and then kicks the corpse off her. Erik’s heartbeat doesn’t slow down, her face is bleeding. She nods to him and then goes to grab a bodybag. Only when they’re in the air once more on the rickety private plane they’ve been using for the last month does he relax again. 

_

_

_

T’Chaka tells T’Challa the truth about N’Jobu when he becomes Black Panther and T’Challa insists on hunting Klaue down himself as proof of his skill. After denying his request, his father details the breadth of N’Jobu’s scheme and the catastrophe he only slightly evaded by carefully pacifying the Border Tribe and tightening Wakanda’s already strict restrictions on travel abroad and study. Then he shows T’Challa, N’Jadaka’s file. Courtesy of the War Dogs attached to watch him, T’Challa goes through pictures, reports and video of the cousin he never knew he had. From then on N’Jadaka never leaves his mind. Every time a new update on his cousin would come, T’Challa would read or watch it. Eager for news, eager to see what the man was doing  _ now. _

His father insisted on being hands off, simply observing and making sure N’Jobu’s son was well. T’Challa thinks his father, while well meaning, was totally wrong. N’Jadaka may have been taken in by a good family immediately after his father died, may have never went hungry or worried for his education, may have passed every psych eval upon early admittance as an officer following his too short stint at the Navy academy may have even (most importantly) passed all the tests his assigned War Dogs gave him to test that he didn’t have thoughts of Wakanda or his dead father. That he was truly invested in his life as a military agent and dedicated to climbing the ranks. He didn’t need to say he hated Wakanda or T’Challa’s father, not when his silent actions and single-minded determination said it for him.

His performance as a military and then intelligence operative wasn’t just for completion or his career’s sake. N’Jadaka was training for something, working towards something. His fledgling network, his subtle inquiries and finally his success in locating Klaue but not approaching the man all pointed to a larger goal. 

T’Challa knows without a doubt sooner rather than later he would meet N’Jadaka and there would be a reckoning. So, he makes preparations. When his father dies, unexpectedly at the U.N. he’s angry, lost,  _ grieving _ but he’s also under high alert. He knows almost within the first 12 hours the perpetrator wasn’t Barnes but he pursues the man anyway giving a show for any who might be watching. He turns the man responsible for killing his father to the authorities. Then when the news of Klaue so suspiciously enticing comes, he takes the bait and intentionally throws the mission. Once again, he gives a good show, certainly Nakia and Okoye try their best, but he’s not trying to kill or capture Klaue and so the man lives long enough to be taken into police custody. N’Jadaka being so good as to kill the CIA agent giving them so much trouble. 

He can tell Okoye has caught on to his game when she doesn’t ask to pursue the receding getaway vehicle. T’Challa gives his regrets to the local police and gets ready to meet his cousin properly.

_

_

_

“What are they saying?” Linda asks softly while she and Erik wait, detained by the country’s border patrol. 

“Bickering over you actually.” It’s half true, they’re also arguing over him. Erik enjoys the way her face changes. He hadn’t promised her she would be able to get in. Wakanda didn’t like outsiders, even he barely passed muster. 

Some more minutes pass before the three, one of whom Erik recognized to be their leader come to an agreement. The man with markings on his cheek steps forward again.

“You. We can take, but you-” He turns to Linda, “stay here.” 

Erik nods, “Just take me to your king. He’ll explain everything.” The last part is sarcastic, he can tell from the other man's face he’s having doubts. Doubts Erik has so carefully encouraged with his perfectly rehearsed sob story and the helpful bodybag. Right now he’s playing it as if he’s just some estranged War Dog kid seeking answers. But he wouldn’t have to for much longer.

He shares one more glance with Linda, “I’ll come and get you. Let me talk to them.” And then he’s off. The initial trek is maybe a kilometer and then it’s like a switch gets flipped and he can see houses and other taller alien structures, which look nothing like the herding and nomad façade that had been there before. For a while he’s shook by what just appeared before his eyes. Then he shakes it off, all of this was his. He was just finally here to claim it. 

_

_

_

In the throne room, T’Challa debriefs the council. “My mission was unsuccessful however in the light of recent events I will have to inform you of some things my father did not.” 

This gets some attention, and T’Challa can see the confusion on all their faces. “My uncle N’Jobu had a son, I met that son for the first time in Busan. He was the one to ultimately recover Klaue’s body and he’s the one whom will be arriving shortly. I hope we can all welcome him as the hero he is.” 

His words are greeted by a stiff silence and then a cacophony of voices rain questions on him at once, his mother and sister included. T’Challa is still answering questions when N’Jadaka is marched into the room. By then it’s calmed down a bit so T’Challa can focus his entire attention on his cousin. 

What strikes him first is the leer on the man’s lips, the entire production from his stance to his posture and sheen of his eyes. T’Challa thinks not for the first time, ‘I won’t let you kill me.’ Then he smiles and welcomes his cousin home.

“N’Jadaka, Wakanda welcomes you. All these years my father watched over you, I’m glad you are finally home.”

He can see the minute his cousin registers his words and the glances he’s being given by the council. See the minute his cousin switches tactics.

“T’Challa… It’s good to be home. I hope you don’t mind me stealing your gift?” 

Besides him Shuri splutters incensed, “You knew we already had him in custody! Your actions killed an agent!”

T’Challa watches the way N’Jadaka considers her, enjoys the flash of violence in his eyes before it disappears into a calculating ocean. 

“I didn’t want anyone else to take credit for my work… I’ve been tailing the man for years princess. I’m a sore loser.” He doesn’t apologize for killing Ross.

Behind N’Jadaka, W’Kabi pipes up glancing between T’Challa and his cousin.

“You know this man?” 

T’Challa nods, “We never met. But my father told me about him and I knew he would eventually return home. I am glad he was able to bring justice to us all. I hope you will forgive me for not telling you sooner. It’s really N’Jadaka’s gift.” 

W’Kabi nods slowly and T’Challa can see the resentment ever present start to fade a little. He glances Okoye’s way, “I know everyone has questions but I would like to speak with my cousin in private, please.” 

_

_

_

The moment they’re alone Erik’s smile drops. He got played. 

The chains are off and he got played. He can pinpoint the exact second everything clicked into place. Pinpoint the moment he knew staring at his aunt’s face, not shocked or disdainful but warm and considering that his cousin not only expected him to start shit but defused it in advance. There’s nothing he can do here without looking ungrateful, rude and unruly. His cousin called him a hero, gave lip service to his ‘gift’ and seemed oh so eager to ‘welcome’ Erik back. Whatever momentum he built with his strongest ally, W’Kabi is broken and there’s no way T’Challa can be goaded or manipulated into accepting a challenge. What now? Was any of the intel he thought he had on his cousin even accurate?

“Will you stay till the next challenge day?” T’Challa questions him when he doesn’t say a word. 

“Stay and do what?” He asks.

“Well… you could gain allies, cause all sorts of trouble maybe even kick off a civil war if you really work at it.” T’Challa speaks slyly as if describing something good. As if he weren’t calling Erik out for wanting to start shit and get rid of him.

“So stay so you can kill me easier?” 

“Would you make it easy for me?” There’s a weird pause between ‘would’ and ‘you.’ 

Erik responds, “You’re the one letting foreign counter-intel into your capital and calling them heroes.” 

“You are a hero. You brought the country justice… and you even cleaned up for me in Busan. How can I not thank you?” 

“You  _ let _ me. You could have had him earlier and you let him go.” He doesn’t acknowledge the agent he killed either, that wasn’t worth mentioning. 

“I did it out of good will. I understand it would be hard for you otherwise coming in simply as the son of N’Jobu.” Son of a traitor, son of the reason his only current ally was an orphan.

“Yeah… I’m sure you did.” Erik’s tone is bitter, revealing the anger and frustration he was feeling. He wouldn’t give up, he was already here. 

“I liked what you did in Brazil, it must have been difficult.” T’Challa says and Erik just stares. 

Every word out of T’Challa’s mouth seemed to be another stab to his ego and his assumptions. A reminder that not only had his cousin known about him, not only had Erik’s uncle prepared for him… they had been watching him this entire time. He bites his tongue and lets the blood sooth his impulse, this was just another test.

“I think you want to help. I also believe Wakanda could do more. Why don’t we work together?” His cousin offers bluntly and Erik chafes at the thought of a handout, at the very fucking thought of working with the son of his father’s killer.

“I want the throne.” He grits out what he had wanted to say in front of a crowd to T’Challa’s face.

“Have it. I can be the bad one and you can be the good one.” T’Challa is beaming. Erik is lost.

“What are you talking about?”

“A king’s spouse can—”

“I’m not fucking marrying you!”

“Not even if it means you can be Black Panther?” T’Challa speaks gently as if Erik hadn’t just shouted at him, as if they were having the same conversation.

“No. I want both. Kingship *and* Black Panther.” He feels like he’s walking into a trap but he’s too incensed to do anything about it. 

“Well… if I can’t convince you to be my Black Panther then I suppose I should help you get ready to be king. You can sit in on all the meetings and the like. Get a taste of kingship.”

“No, I’m not watching you do boring shit all day.” For the first time in this conversation Erik wonders if T’Challa is being for real and then his cousin  _ winks _ at him and he puts the context from earlier in that pause between ‘would’ and ‘you’ together. Also the proximity, when had T’Challa gotten so close?

“Is this how you flirt?” Something dark deep in his belly yawns awake to peek up at his cousin.

“Not usually, is it working?” T'Challa gives him a once over and Erik wants to smack himself for not understanding the signals sooner.  T’Challa obviously didn’t take him seriously, if he did he wouldn’t be giving Erik bedroom eyes as if he could fuck the ambition away. As if Erik wouldn’t wreck his shit sexually and politically given half a chance.

“I can work with it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah yeah, no porn. yell at me in a comment.  
> Honestly though, why the fuck didn't T'Chaka give T'Challa a heads up? So T'Challa could moon over Erik for years and then court him properly on arival? Like.... we were robbed!


End file.
